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Bee II: The Return of the Bee: A really crap poem by Stegzy Gnomepants Bee! I can see! You at my window Trying to flee? Maybe?Bee! You can’t get free The window was shut By me Free(zing) No! You will not go You’re black and stiff Or moving slow Ly Bee! You’re dead I see!…
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Week of poetry They’re looking for a poet In this country of mine To be the laureate That would be fine Sadly my poetic skills Are not shit hot So my application They will not have got So this weeks entrys In true Gnomepantic form Will be in verse And a break from the norm…
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Bee Buzzy little Hairy thing Flying round With translucent wing Fetching nectar From flowers Making honey In a matter of hours Buzzy buzz Stingy sting You lovely little Hairy thing 🙂
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Dear Webdesigners, Please stop fucking about trying to redesign webpages. I know you’re only trying to keep yourself in a job but seriously, I’m usually quite happy with the way things are. Gmail now looks like it’s been through the washing machine. I hope my missing LJ comment replies aren’t related to this image change.…
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Sometimes I thrive on being unprepared for situations. I like to think on my feet. I find that the adrenaline helps me think sharper, but not necessarily clearer. Though since being on adrenaline suppressants I’m not always as sharp as I used to be. A case in point occurred on Monday of this week.
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When you’re in the middle of a conversation if somebody not involved in the conversation interrupted by going “oooh! oooh!” you would think that person as rude. Would you not? So why is it, when you’re in the middle of a conversation and the telephone rings, everyone stops talking and someone answers the telephone? They…
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So the problem with this time of year is the availability of all the sweet shite that the shops seem want to thrust in our faces. So far this week I’ve eaten more crisps, sweets and chocolate than I did last month. Worse still, the availability of yummy fruits such as satsumas, juicy juicy oranges…
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When I was a nipper, I hoped for a shiny new bike. Times were hard in 1970’s so I ended up with a polished and touched up Raleigh Tomahawk previously owned by my brothers. Of course, as time passed and affluence increased so did my aspirations for gifts. December would come and I would sit…
The Compostual Existentialist 